


sunshine leaking through

by bellaaanovak



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Language Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaaanovak/pseuds/bellaaanovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared only means to go into Jensen's trailer to warm up, but it gets a lot hotter than he expected. </p><p>// for the j2 fic competition: prompt - "Jensen really loves (whatever you choose) and Jared likes to give it to him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	sunshine leaking through

**Author's Note:**

> They're filming somewhere around season 2, so Jared is about 23 while Jensen is about 27. I found it a little awkward to formerly write the translations into the fic since it's Jared's POV and he's the one speaking French, so I put the translations in brackets [where Jared doesn't verbally explain] for your benefit.
> 
> I don't know if Jared can actually speak French, but it's my favorite foreign language, so I improvised. I hope you enjoy!

_Any way you want it, that’s the way you need it, any way you want it…_

The song plays loudly from Jensen’s trailer as Jared passes it. Jared kicks the ground with his feet, breaking thin ice that had frozen over the dirt. It’s already February; it’s bitter cold outside. He just got done filming a scene with Alona and was supposed to get Jensen from his trailer so they could film their scenes. It’s only five in the afternoon but it’s probably thirty degrees. Jared has on the warm brown hoodie from the costume trailer over Sam’s clothes, and god, it’s actually extremely comfortable. He would ask to keep it, but who knows if their costume designer could ever make one exactly like it.

 

Jared laughs a little as the song changes.

 

_I won’t dance, don’t ask me, I won’t dance, don’t ask me, I won’t dance, Madame, with you…_

He never knew Jensen was into jazz music – damn, he could have given him some of his dad’s old jazz records for Christmas. Oh, well, his birthday is coming up, anyways. He could’ve brought up Count Basie or Frank Sinatra instead of practically run away after their 12:01 AM New Year’s kiss. They were probably too drunk to hold a conversation about anything other than the way Jensen’s perfect fucking tongue took Jared’s breath away. He clears his throat, shuffles his feet and turns his head over his shoulder, checking for any of the crew members. Everyone was either busy on set or taking a break and warming up. He maybe has fifteen minutes before the producers get itchy about where they are.

 

Jared softly knocks three times on Jensen’s trailer door and waits for the answer. The music shuts off completely and footsteps approach the door. Jensen opens it, all glossy eyed and smiley. Fuck, he’s so hot. Jared grins and absolutely forgets why he came to the trailer in the first place. He knew it was something important, but he can’t even think straight while looking at the man in front of him. Biceps peeking out of his short sleeves – how does he have such a tolerance to the cold – nose red, lips pink. Perfect. Jesus, how long has he been smiling?

 

“Hey, man. They need me out there?” _Oh. Right._

“Uh, yeah, they told me to come get you, but they’re all kinda lagging right now.” Jared purses his lips, trying to warm them somehow and prevent them from falling off.

“Holy crap, Jared, it’s like negative twenty degrees out here, get in.”

 

Jared graciously accepts the offer and enters the heated trailer. He’s always loved Jensen’s trailer more than his own. It’s so homey compared to his. Dark yellow lamps, comfortable couches, a mini-fridge stocked with beer and candy and day-old pizza. There’s a large poster of Lake Travis in Austin, and that’s Jared’s favorite part. As he sits down in the dark blue loveseat, he breathes on his hands, trying to think of excuses to explain why he totally froze up. Sure, he’s always had a crush on Jensen, and sometimes has gotten a similar vibe, but New Year’s was the first time either of them actually _did_ anything about it. They haven’t even discussed it; they’ve been so busy with work.

 

“Want something warm to drink? I’ve got coffee, hot chocolate…?” Jensen asks.

“Hot chocolate actually sounds great.”

 

Jensen prepares the cheap, microwavable hot chocolate and hands the mug to Jared carefully. The drink has tiny marshmallows that are dissolving quickly, and he drinks happily.

 

“I still can’t believe your aversion to cold weather. We’re both from Texas, man. How can you stand it?” Jared jokes. One of the main things they have in common is their Texan origin. He often wonders what their lives would’ve been like if they’d met sooner.

“I guess I just have warm blood,” Jensen makes a face. “Wait, all humans have warm blood.” Jared grins cheekily and sips the hot chocolate again.

 

They sit for a few minutes, and Jared realizes he can’t waste another one. He stands, setting the mug down on the counter and going over to sit next to Jensen. The air between them is so thick, he can barely breathe. This is the closest they’ve been for weeks. God, their thighs are practically touching. Jared shifts on the couch and audibly gasps when Jensen’s hand grazes his thigh. He pulls it away instantly; apparently afraid he’s done something wrong. Jared furrows his eyebrows. “No,” He moves Jensen’s hand back. “It’s okay.”

 

So he goes for it. He kisses him, he kisses his best friend and wonders how he hasn’t done this more often. When he doesn’t respond right away, he pulls back nervously and wonders if that was too fast.

“Ah, _merde._ ” Jared curses under his breath.

“What?”

“Oh – _merde_. It’s French. For shit.”

“You – you speak French?”

“Some. I took it all four years of high school.”

 

Jensen’s hand tightens on Jared’s thigh.

 

“Talk to me in French, Jay.” Jared’s breath hitches at the intimate nickname and tries to remember every French word he’s ever learned. He squeezes his eyes shut when he feels familiar lips on his own again. “Do it.”

 

“Oh, god, Jensen. Okay. Fuck, _je te veux, je te veux si mal._ ” [I want you. I want you so bad.]

 

Jared draws a hand up to Jensen’s neck, caressing gently. They kiss again, this time open mouthed. He tastes so incredible sober. He knows he’ll remember this for the rest of his life. The dim light hits Jensen’s green eyes just right when they pull away. Jared carefully moves so his legs are straddling Jensen’s waist. He blushes a little, not sure if this feels good for his friend.

 

“ _Vous aimez cela?_ ” [Do you like this?] Jared breathes. Jensen licks his fucking lips and nods.

 

Now they’re all hands, Jensen pushing all of Jared’s layers off until he’s in a single t-shirt as well, Jared running his fingers under Jensen’s shirt, feeling his warm skin for himself. He moves his hips a little, unsure how to do this. He’s usually on the receiving end of this position. It doesn’t matter. It begins to come naturally after a while. Jared kisses Jensen again, deeper this time, more tongue, more noise. Claims him.

 

“ _Parfait. Parfait._ Fuck, so perfect,” Jared moans against Jensen’s jaw as he feels his hair being tugged. “Jensen,” He maneuvers so he’s looking into his eyes. “ _Vous êtes si parfait. Se sent si bien, ma chérie._ ” [Perfect. Perfect. ... You are so perfect. Feels so good, sweetheart.]

“You just call me sweetheart?” Jared can’t tell, he’s so fucking dazed, but he could swear Jensen just blushed. “C’mon, move a little. I want you, too. _Ma chérie._ ”

  
The way Jensen says it is a little over-dramatic, but Jared dies for it. No wonder Jensen likes hearing the language so much. Jared agrees, wrapping his hands around Jensen’s neck, pressing their foreheads together, moving faster. He rides him like he was fucking born for it. They kiss tenderly, sweetly, _perfectly_. It’s everything Jared has ever wanted. It’s home. One of Jensen’s hands pulls his hair, the other touches him through his jeans. Low growls form in the bottom of his throat, needing Jensen more than ever.

 

“ _J'ai besoin de vous._ ” [I need you.]

“God, I need you too, Jared. Always have, always will.”

 

Jared’s breath catches. He stares into him like he sees the goddamn sun. Jensen touches him until he comes in his jeans. Jared doesn’t stop riding Jensen until he hears sounds no one but him is ever going to get to hear. They sit there together for what seems like hours but is really thirty seconds, just red-faced and out of breath. They take turns cleaning up in the shower and Jensen loans him a clean pair of boxers and similar jeans to the ones he had on before he came in here. Jared scowls playfully and zips up his hoodie as he eyes Jensen buttoning up a flimsy shirt over his t-shirt.

 

“You’re kidding, right? It’s negative twenty degrees out there, remember?”

“Shut up. The heat from what just happened is gonna keep me warm all week.” Jensen tugs his boots on and they walk out of the trailer slowly. Jared smirks when he sees the chill hit Jensen.

“Yeah, _on va voir._ ” [We will see.]

 

Jensen apparently loves jazz music and that thing Jared does with his tongue, and has a language kink all on top of that. He makes a mental note to himself as they walk slowly back to set, shoulders brushing, and it’s this: from now on, he won’t ever hesitate to give Jensen what he _knows_ he wants.

**Author's Note:**

> i like feedback! kudos, comments, suggestions, constructive criticism, anything. thank you for reading!!! xx


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